


The "Bluebirds" Incident

by Eliyes



Category: Highlander: The Series, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Timelines, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Crossover, Dimension Travel, F/F, Gen, Immortals, Implied Relationships, Land of Oz, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Watchers, Wizard of Oz References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 23:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliyes/pseuds/Eliyes
Summary: After a copy of the Watcher's Database is stolen, Duncan and Methos wait for the inevitable fallout. It turns out to be much, much weirder than they'd expected.(Oz?Seriously?)





	The "Bluebirds" Incident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [killabeez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killabeez/gifts).



> This crossover takes place sometime after the first two episodes of season 6 for _Highlander: the Series_ , and is AU for _Supernatural_ after the Slumber Party episode in season 9 (and possibly before that).

Duncan MacLeod was not a fool -- when Joe and Methos sequestered themselves in Joe's office for two days, he knew something was wrong. He was of two minds about pressing them on the matter, since it was likely Watcher business. He still wasn't entirely at ease with people spying on Immortals to chronicle their secret history, and the Hunters certainly hadn't helped... but on the other hand, he felt guilty over the Watchers who had recently died helping him fight Ahriman.

So when he found out the Watcher trouble was the theft of a copy of the blasted computer archive and every widget needed to get past the security measures, Duncan reacted explosively. Methos was the one who sat him down to break the bad news, and they had a huge fight.

Then they made up pretty spectacularly.

Methos stuck close in the days following while they waited to see what the consequences would be. A Hunter? A headhunting Immortal? A journalist revealing them to the world?

They were still waiting a week later when a stranger sat next to Duncan at the bar and made life take a turn for the surreal.

Of course, Duncan didn't immediately suspect the effect the stranger who settled on the stool next to his would have on his world view. The guy was handsome, with a ready smile accompanied by deep lines next to his eyes. There was no Immortal buzz. In fact, Duncan might not have paid him much attention beyond the initial assessment had not an elbow nudge from an amused Methos clued him in to the man flirting with Joe.

"-- can't say I never listened to 'em, but as I run a blues joint, I'd definitely recommend other bands over them," Joe was saying as he slid over a bottle of beer. Their fingers brushed briefly.

"Yeah? I recently inherited a vinyl collection of the genre from a friend of the family, but it cuts off in the early forties. I'd appreciate some recommendations on more modern acts from someone who knows what he's talkin' about." He tipped his bottle to indicate Joe; his voice was notably deeper than the bartender's and had a muddled sort of Midwest American accent. He took a sip and smirked around the mouth of the bottle before tossing Joe a wink and asking, "Or should I just check what bands have played here?"

And despite the tension of the past nine days, Joe genuinely laughed. "I won't deny I've had some quality blues acts come through here, but there's a whole lotta great music between World War II and me opening the place." He smirked back, adding an openly assessing look. "If you can stick around a while, I could give you some recommendations if we get a slowdown before close."

"Depends on the guy I'm here to meet," was the reply.

"Oh? Anyone I'd know?"

And the stranger jerked his thumb to the right -- where sat two unsuspecting Immortals -- and answered, "Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."

Duncan nearly dropped his glass.

The stranger looked at him and held his free hand up in a strange gesture he was pretty sure he'd seen on _Star Trek_ , saying, "Dude, I swear, we come in peace."

"I don't know you," Duncan shot back, "and I didn't set up a meeting, so how did you find me?"

"I asked around -- this is the third place I looked." He hesitated, then offered his hand. "I'm Dean Winchester. My sister and I need some help, and we were hoping you could point us in the right direction. If now's a bad time, our schedule's wide open. Name the time and place."

Duncan examined his face carefully. As an Immortal who associated with others of his kind, he was used to all manner of deceptions. His instincts told him the man was genuine in his need for help. He shook his hand.

"He's not meeting you alone," Methos interjected from Duncan's other side. Dean gave him a funny look, like he was trying to work out where he knew him from (an expression smart Immortals were on the alert for). Then he looked back at Duncan.

"As long as it's people who know your history. I wouldn't want to out you, so to speak."

They agreed on a time and place to meet the next day -- Dean took the suggestion of a study room at Seacouver City Library with an ease that someone planning a trap or duel probably wouldn't -- and Dean left. Methos shadowed him to a taxi stand, then came back. By the time the meeting rolled, he and Joe were reasonably sure Dean wasn't known to the Watchers or on any law enforcement alerts.

The room was booked in "Adam Pierson's" name, so Methos went in first (and set up a little discreet surveillance, Watcher style) while Duncan waited near the front desk for "the rest of their research group". Dean walked in right on time, accompanied by a flame-haired woman in a bright pink cardigan who quickly spotted him and threw her hand up in the same sci-fi greeting Dean used the night before. She had a briefcase on a shoulderstrap and Dean had a knapsack; neither were big enough for a sword.

"Hey!" the woman greeted cheerfully as soon as they were close enough to do so without earning the librarian's disapproval. "Great to meet you in person, finally!"

"This is my sister, Charlie," Dean said.

"Nice to meet you," Duncan said politely.

"Back atcha. Are we the last to get here?"

"As far as I know." Duncan waved them to follow him. "The room is this way." He paid close attention to the people at his back, but they only pointed out book sections and the location of the washrooms to each other; perfectly normal behaviour for people meeting in a library. When they got to the room where Methos was waiting, he turned in time to see them look around. 

Dean waved a finger. "This all yours, or is this place normally bugged like a swamp?"

Methos gave him a hard smile. "All mine. Hope you don't mind."

Dean and Charlie shared a look, then they both shrugged and said, "It's fine," in unison. She snorted and he rolled his eyes before pulling out a chair.

"Find a plug for your laptop, Charles, and let's get this show on the road."

Once all four of them were seated, Charlie opened with, "This sounds crazy, but not crazier than Immortals and Quickenings and so on. We're reality-displaced hackers from the future!"

Their story was bizarre. Faerie realms. Magic. Monsters. Getting spat out of the actual _Land of Oz_ into this reality and realising their headquarters, which had been built in the thirties, did not exist and furthermore they were almost twenty-five years earlier than they expected to be.

"Like, dudes, every day something else smacks us in the face that _shit, it's the nineties again!_ " Charlie exclaimed. "There's only one Harry Potter book out and Steve Jobs is still alive!"

"The UN hasn't adopted the Kyoto Protocol yet and the Prius isn't on the market," Dean chimed in. "And those things might _not_ happen -- the history here has some notable differences."

"Yeah -- like how in our world, L. Frank Baum never published essays advocating the total genocide of Native Americans," Charlie said sourly. "What a douchewaffle."

As Methos mouthed " _douche waffle_ ," Dean mused, "Probably 'cause here he wasn't a member of a secret society with a mandate to 'observe and catalogue the supernatural' and a history of kicking out dicks saying stuff like that."

"Probably," Charlie agreed. "He wrote based on his daughter's actual adventures slash as a guide for her, but here he didn't _have_ a daughter, apparently? The Judy Garland movie is the same, we checked, but the books..." She looked at Dean, who shrugged.

"I read a couple when I was a kid, and granted that was a long time ago and I've heard the real stories direct from Dot and been to Oz myself since... I dunno, something about the writing seemed different."

Methos, despite looking a touch fascinated, interrupted their verbal tennis game to ask, "Dot as in Dorothy Gale?"

"Dorothy Baum, but yes," Charlie confirmed.

Duncan stifled a groan; the Old Man just couldn't resist sometimes. 

"So, you're Friends of Dorothy?"

"Eh, she's alright," Dean said, smirking at Charlie, who smacked his arm and revealed, "She's my girlfriend."

Duncan waved a hand to get the table's attention. "This is... unbelievable, but -- why ask me for help, specifically?"

The visitors shared a look which seemed to elect Dean the spokesman. His face lost its levity. He explained that they had looked for signs of supernatural activity in hopes of finding people like themselves who might know how to get them home. (After the Immortals' reactions the first time they referred to themselves as "hunters", they'd stopped.) A beheading, the victim of which research proved to be much older than they appeared, would in their world indicate a _vampire_ was killed --

"Yeah, no, a stake just puts a hole in their shirt and you in grabbing range."

\-- but instead of finding "their kind of gig", they found Immortals, and Watchers.

"So we got our hands on their database --" Charlie patted her laptop bag. "-- and went looking for someone who could maybe help us. Which is you."

Dean leaned forward, catching Duncan's eye. "Sorry to bring it up, but -- you were possessed. If anyone will have an open mind about our situation, it's you."

Duncan swallowed thickly. Under the table, Methos' knee shifted to press against his.

"I don't deny that... there's more than science can explain in this world. But I'm just... Things have happened _to_ me, I'm not an expert." He looked at the table, hands clenched together. Reminders of Ahriman were difficult, but he tried to push through and think. There were others, gone now, who would have been better choices for this. Darius, or Coltec, or...

His head came up.

"I think I know someone who could help you. Her name is Cassandra --"

"Hard pass," Dean interrupted in a firm tone.

"Anyone with mind control powers is high on my priority list to _avoid_ ," Charlie continued, giving a shudder.

Duncan opened his mouth to defend the Witch, but Methos nudged him, saying neutrally, "I suspect you've had some experiences that reinforce the sentiment," and Dean grimaced.

"Team Free Will," Charlie said. "Dean's the captain."

"And you're the Queen of Moondoor."

Methos jolted a little in his seat. "Wait, Moondoor? Are you responsible for the ads about a game that doesn't seem to exist that have been showing up in newspapers across the country for over a month?"

"Yep!" Charlie looked proud. "Moondoor's a LARP from home, our allies will recognise the phrase, and we've put in clues to help them find us if they make it here."

"Plus the supposed logo in the ads is actually the symbol of the Men of Letters, another identifier."

Methos chuckled a bit incredulously. "That's clever, but you realise code-breakers and conspiracy theorists have all been trying to figure it out?"

Dean shrugged. Charlie grinned.

Shaking his head, Duncan brought them back on tpic. "I'm still not sure what help I could give you."

"You know this world better than we do, including hopefully lore about faeries."

"I wouldn't trust a crossroads deal with Hell to get us home, and I know a sigil that can be used by an angel to send people to an alternate reality but not many angels who'd do that for me for friendly reasons --"

Charlie fake-coughed loudly into her fist, following it with, "Because one of them rebelled against Heaven for you."

Dean turned to glare at her, but she continued, "And then he had followers, and et cetera."

"Cas Fell --"

"For you--"

"-- so he lost a lot of his mojo and I don't know if he could even use the sigil, so it's a huge risk." He looked back at the Immortals. "That leaves the fae realms. We don't have a Key of Oz, but since the stories exist here, maybe we could find one. Or there's other realms..." He added under his breath, "Although Oberon's a douchebag."

Duncan looked at Methos. He wanted to help, but he knew he couldn't do it alone, or make that choice for both of them. Thankfully, Methos had that scholar's glint in his eye. 

"Alright. We'll try to help. But if someone comes after us because of this, we stop."

The next few days were busy. Dean and Charlie provided Duncan with drawings of the Key of Oz they'd seen and he brought out museum and antiques catalogues and got in touch with a few trusted contacts. Meanwhile, he and Methos (and Joe, to a lesser extent) remembered and sought out faerie lore.

Joe was a bit flummoxed to have the stolen database et al returned, with suggestions for security upgrades. In fact, more than once Methos and Charlie got distracted talking about computers --

"Oh, dude, I _literally_ figured this out as a kid. The current internet is pretty much unlocked for me."

\-- and a lot of it went well over Duncan's head but made Methos grin and plot.

Charlie was a vivacious person, but Duncan got along better with Dean. Sure, he was witty and sarcastic, trading pop culture quips with his (adopted, it turned out) sister faster than Duncan could keep up with even when they _weren't_ from the future. Still there was something grounding about him. Talking to him, it became clear that he had dedicated his life to saving people. Slowly, something in Duncan relaxed.

And Joe did drop by with a list of blues artist for Dean to check out.

It all turned out to be unnecessary. One day as the four of them were approaching Duncan's home with a new load of old books to look through, a motorcycle came roaring down the street. Charlie whipped around, and Dean exclaimed a loud curse before they both hastily set down what they were carrying. The bike pulled up and the driver barely parked it before hopping off to meet a jubilant Charlie in a passionate embrace. The passenger dismounted more awkwardly, and he and Dean collided in a bear hug.

The four started talking, rapid and overlapping, asking and explaining faster than Duncan could follow. When they stopped, Dean smiled at Duncan and Methos and said, "May I introduce Dot and Castiel. They came to bring us home."

Charlie bounced on her toes, despite Dot's arm slung over her shoulders and her own around Dot's waist. "Back through Oz?"

Dot grinned and pulled an object out of her pocket that, yes, looked like the sketches he'd been given.

"As a back-up plan. Hopefully Dean will be able to take us on the express trip straight to Kansas."

Dean looked surprised. "Me?"

His friend Castiel -- who had an incongruously gravelly voice -- told him, "We found a spell that allows the caster to return across dimensions to their soulmate, provided neither is in an afterlife. Sam is waiting."

Tension bled out of Dean so quickly that Duncan would have expected him to stagger if he hadn't immediately thrown both arms in the air with a wordless cheer. He then hugged Castiel, Dot, and Charlie, before exclaiming, "Hell yeah! What do I need to do?"

"Return these library books, get our things from the hotel, and say our goodbyes?" Charlie suggested.

"Well, don't check out just yet. It has to be done midmorning and we need some ingredients," Dot told her, voice rich with amusement.

"I think I'd like to read through these books before we take them back, now that there's no rush..." Methos trailed off, puzzled by the intense stare Castiel sent his way before turning to give Dean a questioning look.

"Right?!" Dean replied. "That's been bugging me for _days_. Dude," he addressed Methos, "do you happen to own a ring with a flat white stone? Heavier than it looks?"

"Not that I recall. Why?"

"It's just, you really put me in mind of someone I've met back home."

"Who?" Methos and Charlie asked.

Castiel answered bluntly, "Death, the Horseman."

Both Immortals went still. Duncan couldn't help it; he turned to look at Methos, who said, "Well, that's alarming," in a flat voice.

The four visitors looked at them, and then they all visibly decided to change the subject. Spellcraft being a topic Duncan would rather _not_ have discussed on his sidewalk, he invited them in, and things improved from there. Castiel and Dean went out to buy herbs and such and returned with pizza, while Charlie bequeathed the laptop she had "kit-bashed" in this world to Methos and gave him a tour of its features, and Dot engaged Duncan in conversation about battle strategies and weapons.

Over dinner, Duncan and Methos found themselves being quizzed on local history, as apparently Seacouver didn't exist in the visitors' native reality. Somehow that hadn't come up before now. Dean drifted from the conversation to go over the spell, lips moving slightly as he reread and memorized it.

The motorcycle was stolen by the time they left, but Dot just laughed.

"It wasn't mine anyway."

The foursome took a taxi back to their hotel -- where, Charlie explained with an impressively salacious eyebrow waggle, they'd rent a second room for the night. In the morning, Duncan and Methos arrived in separate cars to ferry them all to an out-of-the-way place they knew.

For some reason, all of them seemed to have pockets bulging with things that clicked together like hard plastic. Duncan, who wished he'd had time for more coffee that morning, waved at them and managed, "What?"

"Tamagotchi!" Dean told him with a wolfish grin.

"First wave, bitches!" Charlie exclaimed, and the two highfived. Dot rolled her eyes.

The Immortals were able to stay and watch as Castiel drew a chalk circle (rife with symbols Duncan, at least, didn't recognise), and Dean mixed things in a clay bowl, anointing each of the travelers with the resulting substance before using the rest to draw a second, different circle within the other.

Castiel looked at them then. "You need to leave now, or the energies of the spell may try to latch onto you, but without the ritual protections... It would be bad."

They had already exchanged handshakes and thanks and goodbyes, technically. Duncan met Dean's eyes and nodded to him, and Dean nodded back.

They stepped outside. As soon as the door closed, Dean's voice began chanting -- muffled at first by the walls, then obscured by a thrum that seemed to resonate in his bones and fizzle along his nerves. Without discussion, they both took several more large steps away, but the feeling of power building didn't abate -- until suddenly it snapped, and the sound of the world flooded back in.

Methos and Duncan shared a long look, then approached the building. Duncan was the one to cautiously open the door, but there was no one inside. Even the ritual circles were gone, as if they'd never been.

Methos bent and picked up something small and vaguely egg-shaped from the ground.

"Tamagotchi," he said, and pocketed it.

"I guess... it's over." Duncan looked around. "I hope they got home alright."

"Nothing we can do about it either way." Methos slung an arm around his shoulders and steered him back to where they'd parked their cars. "Come on. Back to the real world."

(Two weeks later, an antiques contact in Vienna called to tell Duncan he'd found the item he'd inquired about in a private collection, and did Duncan wish to make an offer to the owner?)

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> If this had had sections of the SPN characters' POVs, they would have been 40-75% just "omg _it's the '90s_ ".


End file.
